Transcript
Bluey (0:00)
This episode of Bluey is called Perfect. The Heeler house was calm on a sunny morning as Bluey and Bingo sat on the veranda surrounded by colorful art supplies. Their mission was clear to create Father's Day cards for dad. Bingo held a red crayon, her face bright with excitement. I'm going to do a red Love Heart rainbow card. She declared happily. Mom took a seat with her tea, encouraging their ideas. Oh, great. She replied. Just then, dad appeared unexpectedly, making a grand entrance. Hey, what's going on? He asked with a grin. But Bluey, Bingo and Mom all jumped in surprise. They didn't want dad to know that they were making cards for him. Ah, dad. Get out. They exclaimed, giggling, putting on a pretend offended look. Dad folded his arms dramatically. Ah, after all I've done for this family. He huffed as he walked off, leaving Bluey and Bingo giggling. Once things settled down, Bluey was ready to plan her card. She announced confidently, I'm gonna draw the perfect picture of me and dad. Mom smiled and asked, the perfect picture? Bluey nodded, but a question popped up in her mind. Yes. What does perfect mean? She asked. Bingo waved her crayon to emphasize each word, explaining it. It means really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really Good. Pretty much. Mum agreed. Taking a fresh piece of paper, Bluey declared, this is going to be so perfect. Dad will stick it straight on the fridge. Mum smiled but offered a gentle reminder. Perfect is tough, Bluey, I said undeterred. Bluey picked up a blue marker. It's fine. She replied confidently. She paused, thinking hard. What should I draw me and dad doing? Mom pointed to one of Bluey's previous drawings on an easel, suggesting, how about just standing there with your arms out exactly like this one? But Bluey shook her head. No, it has to be better than that. She insisted. Mom nodded thoughtfully. But this one's lovely. She said. Bluey thought about what she liked best about dad. Oh, I know. I love it when he does. It's dad. She said. Bingo giggled in agreement, remembering Dad's funny greeting. Bluey pictured the memory and began to draw. She, Bingo and Mom had been at the breakfast bar and dad had burst in with his hands outstretched, announcing, it's dad. He had demanded that everyone clap, saying, okay, whenever I walk into a room, everyone has got to clap and go, woo. Yeah, it's dad all right. That guy's awesome. Got it, Mom. Bluey and Bingo had joined in, slowly making dad laugh and tickle Bluey back in the present. Bluey added this scene to her card drawing dad with his arms out. That looks great, Bluey, mom encouraged, but Bluey wasn't satisfied. I can't draw tickling. Very perfect. She muttered, feeling unsure. Bingo looked closely. Yeah, it looks more like he's throwing you. She observed. Bluey brightened. Ooh, I can draw throwing. She said, thinking of another one of Dad's games. Ah, you can draw no ticket, Bingo added, remembering how dad would pretend to be a ticket officer, demanding tickets and then tossing her onto a bean bag if she didn't have one. In her drawing, Bluey captured Dad tossing her onto the beanbag with Mum and Bingo on the couch watching. But something was still off. Hmm, I'm not very perfect at drawing big couches, she said, feeling a bit discouraged. Mum reassured her. It looks great, she said, But Bingo added, yeah, it doesn't look like our couch. It looks more like a chair. Oh, you can draw dad playing chair. Bluey responded excitedly, recalling another of Dad's silly games. She remembered how he'd sat down on her, pretending she was a comfy chair. Get off. She'd laughed, struggling underneath him while dad had sighed, saying, so relaxing. Bluey drew dad sitting on a chair with herself squished underneath him. But even then she wasn't satisfied. So finally, Bluey draws her and dad playing boomerang, reminiscing about dad throwing her through the air. And just like a boomerang, Bluey had run right back to dad, making them both laugh. That's a cracker, mom says, praising Bluey for the care she was putting into her artwork. It's just not perfect enough, Bluey murmured, feeling discouraged. Mom sat beside her, sensing something was bothering her. Is there something you want to tell me, Bluey? Mum asked gently. Bluey thought back to a moment she had felt a bit left out. One day, Bingo had given Mom a drawing and Mum had put it on the fridge, sliding it right on top of one of Bluey's drawings. She had felt a wave of sadness seeing her own drawing covered, even though mom hadn't meant to make her feel that way. Bluey tells Mum this story even though it was hard for her to admit that she felt excluded. Mum gave Bluey a warm hug, sensing her feelings. I'm sorry, kid. I'm not perfect, I'm afraid, mom admitted softly. Bluey looked up, smiling. That's okay, she replied. Mum put her arm around her. Being a parent is tough. Yeah, so is drawing. Bluey sighed. They both laughed. Mum gently reminded her. But listen, how many times have you banged your knee or scratched yourself playing with your dad. Bluey thought back to all those moments, like the times dad had thrown her onto the bed. Or the beanbag lots, she admitted she remembered how dad would always say, don't tell your mom, making her giggle even through the pain. And then he would always say, it's a good thing you're tough. Feeling inspired, Bluey realized she could draw something that showed how strong she'd become, thanks to dad. Drawing is tough, but it's a good thing I'm tough, she said with a renewed smile. Soon after both Bluey and Bingo were ready with their cards, they rushed to dad. Happy Father's Day. They cheered, handing him their creations. Dad looked at the drawings, his eyes lighting up. These are brilliant. They're going straight to the fridge, he said proudly, moving aside the bills to make space. Bluey realized her drawing didn't have to be perfect, it just had to come from the heart. So she smiled, finally feeling at peace with her picture. Dad stepped back, admiring the artwork, gave Bingo and Bluey a big squeeze, and lovingly said, perfect.